Tanglewood
by Viciously Witty
Summary: Words have power. Woven to beguile and to ensnare - like twisted branches of a tree, with roots gone deep. They lie in shadow – filled with purpose and intent. Filled with Old magic. Sarah really should have known better. Norse gods, ancient rituals, the chase… He is through waiting. It all began with a book; it is only fitting that it should end with one. Enter the Tanglewood...
1. THE worst

**Disclaimer:** I own no rights to _Labyrinth _and therefore make no profits. I wish I did. I would make the characters do all manner of naughty things and profit off it. Instead I'll have to do that for free. _Again._

Any of the original characters or plot devices - love them or hate them - are my creation. I licked them so you wouldn't want them anyway.

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><p>Words have power. Woven to beguile and to ensnare - like twisted branches of a tree, with roots gone deep. They lie in shadow – filled with purpose and intent. Filled with Old magic. Sarah really should have known better. Norse gods, ancient rituals, the chase… He is through waiting. It all began with a book; it is only fitting that it should end with one.<p>

Enter the Tanglewood...

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><p><strong>Part I<strong>

"Words are pale shadows of forgotten names. As names have power, words have power."

**_The Name of the Wind,_ Patrick Rothfuss**

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><p>"Babies are THE worst."<p>

"Uh huh."

"No seriously. You have no idea what it's like. It's… it's…"

"The worst?"

"Exactly. THE worst."

"I think you mentioned that."

"Sometimes I just wish-"

"Stop. Never wish for things you don't mean. _Trust_ me."

"But I do wish-"

"Toby, I-"

"I do wish you still lived at home."

Sarah exhaled with a laugh. "Why, so I could help change diapers? Been there done that. And you're right. Baby brothers ARE the worst."

"You're hilarious."

"Aren't I though? Beware my rapier wit."

"I think Karen refers to it as a 'smart mouth'."

"She's not wrong. My mouth is a genius. And Karen's name is mom to you, bucko," Sarah chided gently.

"Smooth segue. You call her Karen."

"And you call her mom. Nice try. Look, I've got to go. Talk later, okay?"

"Mmhmm."

"Look at it this way, Karen can't baby you anymore."

"No, now I will suffer from middle child syndrome and end up with sociopathic tendencies."

"Help your mom and lay off the daytime TV – even on break."

"Fine… whatever."

"Later, kiddo." Sarah hung up the phone and snorted. All things considered, Toby was handling the newest addition to their family with more grace than she had in his shoes. And he was only 10. To be fair the newest addition was a bit of a "surprise" to them all, not least of all Karen who'd assumed her sudden hormonal changes were the early onset of menopause and her father who'd assumed his vasectomy had… well, worked. He joked about suing the doctor. At least they all assumed it was a joke. Hard to tell with lawyers.

Baby Max, while unexpected, was a dimpled little ball of delight and despite the wide age range of his children, Robert Williams was pretty darned happy to be a father again. He'd assumed the next babe on his knee would be a grandchild, but he'd take another son. He'd not always been the best of fathers – work demanded so much of his time – but now that he was a senior partner, he was able to delegate more. He planned to make up for lost time and he'd made that clear to all of his children, not least of all his oldest.

Sarah flicked on the coffee maker, while mentally tallying how many cups she'd had already. Fuck it - the mantra of beleaguered students everywhere. It was Saturday but that meant nothing in her world. She glanced longingly at the TV and the stack of VHS tapes next to it, then reluctantly pulled her eyes back to the dining table strewn with library books, likely overdue, and stacks of papers festively dotted with coffee rings. She'd take a dirty diaper right about now.

One last glance at the TV.

She knew _Willow_ was still sitting in the VCR. It was due back at the video store today. It would be silly not to watch it one more time before it had to go back… Sarah determinedly sat down with her back to the living room and switched on her ghetto blaster. The angsty crooning of REM soon drown out the furtive scratches of pen on paper.

Theses. Theses are THE worst.

She should have taken that opportunity in Ireland. Another furtive glance at the TV. Or not. If binge watching TV was too much of a distraction then an adventure in a foreign country would probably completely mess up her life. She'd treat herself to a trip when it was all done and she'd successfully defended it. She'd drink too much beer, dance all night in pubs and kiss a dark-haired Irish rogue in the moonlight… in the ruins of a castle… with the sounds of the Irish Sea in the background…

"GOD DAMMIT, concentrate, Sarah!" _Even her fantasy life was starting to sound contrived._

_Fuck it_, she thought again. She clicked the music off and began gathering up her books and notes. Half an hour later found her in the Master's section of the library, crammed into a little cubicle. She promised herself that if she could get a solid 4 hours of research done she'd give herself the rest of the day off. Maybe take a run, do a little shopping. Thai takeout for dinner.

It wasn't that her research was dry. It was a topic that held a lot of interest for her but doing the same thing every day, ad nausea - forever it seemed, could make even the most dedicated of academics go crazy. Whoever said forever was not long at all was an abject liar.

Sarah stilled, her skin prickling. She didn't often let little slip ups like that happen. In fact she did what she could to avoid them – stave off memories that were as vivid as they were confusing. She _knew_ exactly who'd said that. The eponymous figure of girlhood fantasy. One she'd logically reduced to pure delusion. Boxed, crated and stored away, this made these occasional slip ups all the more pernicious. It was easy to deny. It was not easy to forget.

The sound of a book hitting the floor broke her reverie and Sarah turned to see the offender. Barbara, one of the library's senior librarians, was bent over trying to coax the fallen book back into her stack. Naturally she dropped them all. Some very un-librarian like words followed, coupled with murderous glares from the other Master's students who considered even sneezing to be an unconscionable transgression.

Sarah slid out of her chair to help.

"Oh, Sarah, thank you."

"No problem, Barbara," She whispered back. She'd learned right away that if you wanted your research to go smoothly you always befriended the librarians. She followed her back to her desk and sat the books down on the corner.

"I don't normally see you here on Saturdays."

"Yes, well, I needed to concentrate."

Barbara chuckled. "And how is that going?"

"Fantastically awful. Doesn't help that I'm working through some of the dullest stuff right now. Not everyone can write. And of those that can, not every one should."

"I'd be out of a job if they didn't."

"And I'd have nothing to blame my procrastination on. Point taken."

"To terrible writers then." Barbara took a sip of her coffee and gagged. "And terrible cafeteria coffee." She took another sip and then eyed it. "Actually this might have been from yesterday."

"Well, rest assured that once I graduate, my lofty degree will guarantee me a career where I will brew only the very best in caffeinated beverages."

"Oh that reminds me! THE book you requested FINALLY arrived." The older woman fumbled in her desk drawer and withdrew a set of keys. "It came in yesterday and I finished processing it this morning. Do you want to go now?"

"THE book? Oh God, yes! Just let me get my stuff." Sarah hurried over to her workstation, sweeping her texts into her over-sized bag in one motion, and catching up again with Barbara at the little used elevator. Barbara was holding the doors open.

Once inside, Barbara inserted the key into the lock beside the 5th floor button, before pressing it. It was the only elevator in the building that led to the equally little used windowless fifth floor. All the others ended at the fourth. Old architecture and budget cuts meant that that had never been changed. Sarah surmised security was also a factor.

When the doors opened again, Sarah was hit with the distinctive scent of vellum, parchment and dust. She could feel the air change of the climate controlled floor. The Rare Book Collection, read a prominent sign at the end of a short hallway, and below that a lengthy list of rules that Sarah knew were rigidly enforced. She deposited her coffee travel mug - rule number 3 - on a small table and pulled a pair of cotton gloves out of the adjacent box - rule number 2 - as Barbara unlocked the door. The room was swathed in the dim red glow from the security lights. There were no windows – sunlight was anathema to both leather and ink as old as that housed within. Barbara turned on one of the few table lamps. Sarah pulled a pad of paper and a pencil out – no pens was rule number 8 - and stowed her bag under the large oak table.

Sarah had loved this room from the moment she'd first been permitted inside as a thesis candidate. Words held power and this room was manifest. Part of Sarah always felt like a little girl allowed to use fine bone china for the first time. There was the constant fear of breaking such a delicate thing, but to be invited into this world was in and of itself an honour. She was being trusted with something precious. A little girl in an adult's world. A world of knowledge. _Of magic._ Looking around at the tall shelves and locked glass cases, she hoped that awe never left her.

Barbara returned and carefully laid a leather book on the table before her.

"Here you go. I'm surprised those stingy bastards let it leave their sight. It only took, what months, for the approval?"

Sarah nodded absently and ran a finger lightly across the dyed leather. She traced the embossed knot work design.

"From what I gather, a wealthy donor died and bequeathed it. And with another copy in their collection they agreed to lend it out. Quid Pro Quo, naturally."

"Naturally-"

The sound of a pager interrupted.

Barbara glanced at the number and then her eyes widened. "Oh, God dammit! I forgot about the meeting!" She flicked her watch in accusation and grimaced. "I have to run… and you know the rules. A staff member must be in the room at all times…" her eyes softened, "…but it's Saturday and we're understaffed today anyway. And I am ridiculously late and being paged by his holiness!" As if to punctuate the point the pager went off again. Barbara hesitated and then pulled something from her pocket. "I am leaving you this key. You know where to put it when you're through. This is the only key. ONLY. Key. DO. NOT. LOSE. IT. And don't bring anyone else in. Understand? Or I'll be out of a job and you won't get to graduate and nab that cushy coffee house career you're so looking forward to."

Sarah nodded, lips twitching, and accepted the holy grails of library keys, not counting the one to the staff liquor cabinet they thought none of the grad students knew about. It paid to befriend librarians.

"Don't forget the lamp. The book goes back in there," she pointed to one of the glass cases, "when you're through. Lock the door. I won't be back in today, but I'll stop in tomorrow to make sure everything is _fine_." Barbara emphasized the last word.

Sarah solemnly nodded again. _I won't break the china, mum._

"You know how valuable that book is." Barbara opened the door and then hesitated again. "Seriously. Please. Or forget about coffee, we'll both be asking if you want fries with that."

"I promise. And thank you. Honestly!" Sarah heard the pager go off again, if possible, even more shrilly. "Run. Or you really will be looking for a new job." Sarah was on the Dean's list and as such had hob knobbed with his holiness on numerous occasions. She did not envy Barbara. Luckily Barbara was well-endowed and the Dean had both wandering eyes and a conveniently estranged wife. As a librarian, Barbara was well versed in… managing her assets.

The staccato click of heels and the faint hum of the elevator followed and then went silent, leaving only the white noise of the carefully controlled ventilation system. The desk lamp was the only real source of light, leaving the rest of the room in shadow. Barbara hadn't bothered turning on anything else. And Sarah didn't bother to either.

The university boasted a surprisingly well-stocked rare collection. Most of it had been gifted by the original family of the university's founder. It has been fleshed out by subsequent donors. And as such, the library was able to rotate the collection out and in turn borrow exquisite treasures from other collections. The security measures and the climate control were modern but the rest of the room was period preserved. The ornate shelves were solid stained oak, as were the few tables and chairs. What little of the walls was not covered in wood was painted a dark matte burgundy. The desk lamps were brass. Gleaming glass cases punctuated the room. The security lights lent everything an under glow of red. Sarah realized she had never before been alone in this room and probably never would be again. The feeling was momentous, decidedly eerie, but not entirely unwelcome. It felt like finding a secret room and being in danger of getting caught any minute. This, while unlikely, was not far from the truth. And the thrill, Sarah found, was more than a little delicious.

Her eyes dropped to the book in front of her. And oh God, what a thrilling Saturday it had turned out to be indeed.

Easing the cover open carefully, mindful of the fragile spine, Sarah forgot to breathe for a moment. _The Poetic Edda_, otherwise known as the _Codex Regius_, was in her cotton covered fingers. It was the most important source on Norse mythology in existence. She had read Hollander's translation of it, arguably the best, and even owned a copy of Cottle's translation, the oldest known English translation, but this copy was on an entirely different level. In her hands lay one of the original rebound editions from the 17th century, possibly even earlier. The fact that Iceland had lent it at all was a miracle and no doubt a bureaucratic nightmare. She could only thank her thesis advisor for that boon. An ex-pat of prestigious reputation and notable connections, he'd no doubt pulled some serious strings. Part of her felt guilty for getting to see it first, but thank God for Saturdays because she'd never learned to wait.

Bending down, she pulled out a translated copy of Sturluson's _The Prose Edda_, Hollander's translation of _The Poetic Edda_ and an Old Norse to English reference dictionary from her Poppins-esque shoulder bag. She set them to the side of the manuscript. Sarah showed a natural aptitude for language and had been taking classes, with additional tutoring from her thesis adviser, since beginning her research. All of it felt like a crescendo to this moment.

An inked copy of the knot on the leather cover similarly adorned the first page. Sarah examined it more closely. The presence of the knot in and of itself was not unusual but the fact that she had never seen it replicated in any of the later or modern editions was surprising. She skimmed through Hollander's translation just to be certain. Sarah chewed her lip. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled and she rubbed them absently, adjusting her mess of hair, and glancing once more at the dark room. The silence was suddenly heavier. She couldn't even detect the thrum of the ventilation anymore, although the lack of an ear-piercing alarm suggested it was still working.

The uneven pages of the manuscript were of a texture Sarah couldn't immediately identify. Given the nature of her research she had come into contact with many types of vellum, parchment, and paper. She'd have to follow up on it later – she assumed some type of thorough dating had been done on it. Barbara would have the records somewhere for insurance purposes. The Old Norse was recognizable and the lettering incredibly well-preserved. She carefully flipped forward in the book, stopping to marvel at the clarity of the artwork throughout. Beasts and knots and gods and mortals… The printing looked to be similar to Iron Gall ink, as in the Book of Kells, although the colours were more vivid. Occasional words and even entire passages jumped out at her, assuring her that her language training had been well worth the cost and the energy. Words had power. Translation was like filtering light; it muted and dulled. This was pure and unadulterated, she thought giddily, illuminating everything.

_Frig, she was such a nerd. _

She paused on another page and the wayward hairs on her neck prickled again.

"That can't be right…"

She flipped back to Hollander's translation. There appeared to be an extra lay with a title she'd never seen before. Sarah dug through her bag to find an Icelandic edition and began thumbing through the copy, counting as she went. She did the same with Hollander's edition. And then meticulously began again with the ancient tome.

"Impossible…"

Her eyes skated over the leather, noting the pages - possibly vellum, studying the ink. She'd need to consult with the professor on Monday; it had to be a mistake. The idea was patently ridiculous. So it was likely just a oversight… a very old oversight? And yet… she couldn't help but wonder if she held one of the, if not _the_, oldest editions of _The Poetic Edda_ in existence.

_Ridiculous, Sarah_!

She had no idea what possessed her to do it, especially if it was true. She'd certainly question why she did it later. Sarah peeled the cotton gloves from her fingers and dropped them on the table beside her. She knew how fragile old manuscripts were, how damaging oils from skin could be, and she knew, inexorably, that she was holding a Skaldic cultural treasure. Her fingers trembled. She could feel the blood pounding in her ears, but she had to touch it without a barrier. Just like Sleeping Beauty touched the spindle, she thought deliriously. Tolkien himself could not have resisted. There was no choice but this.

The page was cool beneath her finger tips and surprisingly smooth; the ink was raised enough that she could feel the words even as she read them. They thrummed against her skin, like a guitar string that had been plucked – the vibration working its way up her arm. _Into her. _The animal part of her brain kicked into control...

_Take your hand away, Sarah!_

She immediately noticed that the room was darker - the red glow of the security lights having gone out.

**Ding...**

Sarah startled – her fingers still splayed on the page; her eyes darting to the door and through its glass, the elevator.

**Ding...**

Just a fellow student likely. She'd forgotten to wear a watch today, but the library saw students come and go at all hours.

**Ding...**

The third floor was the most popular. It had cozy couches and a slew of rooms for study groups. It also housed the majority of the general collection.

**Ding...**

Sarah blinked, watching as goose bumps broke across the surface of her skin - her hand still frozen in its illicit act. The grad students used the 4th floor. She waited for the telltale swish of the doors.

Nothing.

The hum of the cables was louder now. Closer. Her eyes dropped to the key on the table. _Only key._ And then turned back to the elevator. The hallway seemed to narrow and expand in an ocular illusion.

Sarah snatched her hand off the book, clutching it to her chest guiltily – wide eyes trained on the elevator doors.

**Ding...**

The doors opened.

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><p><strong>Please Read and Review! <strong>

**AN:** I'm baaaackkk!

First of all, for those of you who have read my previous story, there is no connection to Goblin Market in terms of narrative, even if I allude to it for funsies or if the premise of the student seems similar. So for any new readers, no need to read it first. Secondly, I have never been to Iceland (unlike Ireland), I am not well versed in much to do with Iceland and have a much poorer grasp on Norse mythology than Irish (however much I am fan) so bear with me. An interest was sparked and I am learning as I go. Thirdly, because I like my GK the way I like my beer (dark), this will be a similar GK to the Goblin Market. If you liked him in that story you'll (hopefully) like him in this one. If you didn't, well, you follow. Same with Sarah. No wilting flowers here. Lots of fighting the inevitable, tension and sweet, sweet smut… eventually. After lots of fights. Expect a little more Toby in this one, as well as some new original characters (including the baby) and some of the original characters from Goblin Market may make an appearance.

Lastly, if you're an old reader, thank you so much for all the love on Goblin Market. Seriously meant the world to me. There are so many terrific stories on here, many of them underrated, so to get all the lovely feedback I got on what I consider to be a poor offering in comparison was seriously amazing. I PROMISE not to take 4 years to finish this one. I got married and had 2 kids in the space of the last story, so I can't imagine as many milestones/ time suckers during this one. Although I did get Netflix…

Very happy to be back :) Bertie already had Jeeves prep the celebratory cocktails. Would love to hear how you are all doing.

**Notes:**

The title of this story was inspired by _The Tanglewood Tales_ by Nathaniel Hawthorne and also by an inked painting of a twisted forest that I grew up with in my childhood home. My mother still has it.

Theses is the plural of thesis. Perhaps you knew this. I did not know this. I think it looks weird. I think it sounds weird. But I used it.

_The Poetic Edda_ or _Codex Regius_ exists and is considered the bible of Norse mythology. It was likely written in the 13th century (although anywhere from 1000-1300 A.D. is possible). Scholars are still attempting to date the poems, so in theory it may be even older and the origins of the poems are still undecided. Therefore I feel free to take (respectful) creative licence with it.

J.R.R Tolkien was heavily influenced by _The Poetic Edda_. He totally would have touched it.

All translated texts referenced do exist. Check 'em out.

"Lay" refers to a passage or story in the _Edda_.

I know canon (i.e. the manga we shall all pretend doesn't exist) states Sarah's stepmom's name is Irene, but I started out with the fanon – and Karen sort of stuck.


	2. When the Devils Calls

**Disclaimer: **I didn't mention it in the last chapter, so I will do so here. This story is rated M for a reason – although it might take a while to earn its scarlet letter. There will be swearing, some of it blasphemous, and there will be minor violence and, of course, some smut. Consider yourself warned (or promised - whichever).

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><p><strong>Part II<strong>

"If thought corrupts language, language can also corrupt thought."

**George Orwell**

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><p>Nothing.<p>

Sarah exhaled in disbelief.

The fluorescent bulbs in the empty elevator flickered and buzzed.

_A short circuit maybe... _

And then exploded in a shower of sparks.

Sarah screamed.

The doors closed with a swish.

Silence.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…" Her words fell into rhythm with her heartbeat.

She strained her ears to hear the elevator hum as it descended and then nothing again.

The whir of the ventilation and the red glow of the security lights as they switched on.

"Jesus H. Fucking Christ!"

Her hands were shaking, her body jittery, and it came to Sarah in a rush that all she'd had today was coffee. Had she expected a tidal wave of blood? In the Overlook she was not. A janitor? She could have brazened out a convincing lie. She'd always been particularly adept at lying. Her eyes dropped to the discarded white gloves. No… that wasn't who she'd expected at all.

After 10 years with no contact, nothing extraordinary, nothing fantastical at all, a traitorous part of her - one she thought she had expunged - had imagined…

_She would not say it._

On shaking legs she proceeded to turn on every desk lamp in the room until all of the shadows had been expelled. Only then did she return her attention to the book. The charm of being alone with it was lost. She had been an only child for 15 years before Toby had entered the picture. Solitude was something she prized and was the reason that she'd settled for a much smaller apartment in a less charming part of town in order to avoid a roommate. But right now the thought of being alone was choking her. It was irrational, and on a pragmatic level she knew she was being ridiculous. There was nothing in the closet; nothing under the bed. Monsters existed only when you believed in them.

…_Even if you don't believe in the devil, he believes in you…_

The stray thought burnt a path through her reason. The appeal of the Rare Book Room was lost for today. Sarah stowed her texts back in her bag and then turned to the Edda. _It's just a book._ She subconsciously wiped her hands on her jeans and then snatched up the cotton gloves, pulling them back on again. Very carefully she closed the manuscript and walked it back to its case. When the lock clicked into place, she felt a strange mixture of disappointment and relief. She would not be alone with it again.

She cast a final cursory sweep around the room to make sure there was nothing out of place – nothing for Barbara to nitpick, and then turned off each desk lamp until the room was again lit only by a red glow. Gathering her bag she headed to the door and stepped out into the low light of the hall. She locked the door and picked up her travel mug before turning towards the elevator.

She'd never cared for elevators. They were enclosing without being cozy. She didn't like the sound of the cables and she never trusted them not to fail, leaving her trapped – alone in the dark. Or worse, falling into nothing. The door to the stairwell was clearly marked as an emergency exit only, a warning that an alarm would sound upon opening, and still Sarah hesitated in front of it. Reluctantly she pushed the button and waited.

A few moments later she heard the hum as the elevator reached her floor. The doors opened. The interior was still dark and the distinct smell from the burst bulb had lingered. Glass crunched beneath her feet as she stepped in nervously and pressed the button for the 4th floor. She'd take the main set of stairs from there after dropping off the key. She supposed she ought to call facilities about the light. The doors closed, stealing the last of it.

…_alone in the dark…_

The hairs on her neck prickled again as the whir of the cables started. When you lose one sense, the rest overcompensate. Something danced against her back. Sarah whirled around blindly, swallowing a scream, just as the fractured bulb crackled overhead. A shower of sparks flashed to life and fell. Sarah dropped her bag and threw her arms up protectively.

The doors opened.

She dropped her arms and blinked at the sudden influx of bright artificial light. A fellow grad student passed, laden with books, and glanced at her – his bleary eyes straying to the broken glass and then moving on without comment.

Sarah snatched up her stuff, shaking off the glass and quickly stepped out. The doors swished closed behind her.

She could see through the windows that the sun was already setting. Her stomach reminded her that she'd had nothing to eat. She quickly made her way to Barbara's desk and returned the key to its proper place. She found a post-it and scrawled a quick "thanks" before sticking it to the monitor.

Sarah picked up Thai food on her way home. She'd shovelled in two bites of the Gang Garee Gai when she noticed the light on her answering machine flashing. She'd won a trip to Florida! Delete. The next message was her father asking if she wanted to come over for dinner – they were ordering take out. Her favourite. Chinese. Sarah snorted and took another bite. It had been her favourite when she was 12. She could hear Max cooing in the background and Karen scolding Toby for something. She smiled slowly before closing the container and storing it in the fridge.

She called home to let them know she was on her way. Toby answered, relayed the message to his dad and then informed Sarah that if she wanted to eat "their" food, she'd better be prepared to change some diapers. Sarah promised.

Ten minutes later she was out the door in a fresh change of clothes, with combed hair and a washed face. She'd refilled the cat's dish before slipping out. Loki was on his own tonight. Sarah's apartment was only a 20 minute drive from her childhood home. At first it had seemed silly to pay rent in the same city she already lived, but when she began to fully appreciate the demands of completing her thesis, coupled with the demands of a newborn roommate, Sarah pulled out the apartment listings in the newspaper. Robert and Karen both fully supported her desire for space and a place to study, and Robert insisted on paying for her rent. Her tuition was covered by her academic scholarships. Karen only voiced concern that she'd chosen to live alone and wondered if maybe she should get a dog. Sarah knew she didn't have the time for a dog and hadn't ever wanted to replace Merlin after he passed away anyway. A cat was the perfect compromise. Toby was resentful that she was leaving and had made his feelings on the matter emphatically clear. Those feelings were greatly tempered by the realization that he'd be upgrading to Sarah's room. He failed to convince Sarah that she should take Max when she left.

When she walked in the door, the food had already arrived. Karen was laying out the dishes on the table and Toby was breaking apart the chopsticks, mildly cursing under his breath when they broke unevenly. Which they all did. Karen was pretending not to hear. Everybody swears when they break that way. Her father and Max greeted her at the door with a kiss. Sarah dropped her purse and eagerly scooped the baby out of his arms, bouncing him as she wandered into the dining room to say hello. Max's chubby fingers curled reflexively in her hair, tugging every few seconds. No wonder Karen kept hers short.

"Wine, sweetie?"

"Yes. Please."

"Rough day?" Karen handed the glass to Sarah.

"You could say that." Sarah adjusted Max on her hip to take a sip with her free hand. "Oh, that's good. All I've had is coffee today."

"Oh, well this is much healthier then," Toby remarked with a smirk.

"Shut it, kid. How's that coke tasting?"

Toby took a dramatic slurp. "Whatever. I'm a child. I'm supposed to make irresponsible choices and look to my elders for guidance." He smiled toothily at Sarah. "I guess I'm doomed."

"Hey now, I just made a very responsible choice." She ruffled his hair affectionately. "I've just decided never to have children."

Max cooed.

"Oh, I didn't mean you, chubs. You're just perfect. " Sarah nosed him gently. "But you need to stop growing like a weed. Before I know it you'll be a mouthy little 10 year old."

Robert scooped Max out of her arms and popped him into a high chair with a bottle. Toby was already piling his plate with chicken balls coloured a red so bright, Sarah was sure they were toxic. Karen topped up her wine glass with a smile. Sarah pulled out a chair and tucked in. It wasn't Thai but it was hot and plentiful and doused in soya sauce it all tasted delicious. It felt good to be sitting around the table. She didn't make it home as often as she'd like – as often as any of them would like. Toby smiled at her with a mouth full of red goo and tried to playfully kick her under the table.

The events of the afternoon now seemed innocuous in the warm light of the dining room. Too many movies, not enough sleep, no food, bad timing…

Toby snatched an eggroll off her plate. "What? Stolen food always tastes better."

Sarah pointed a chopstick at the baby. "Never learn to talk, Max. No good ever comes of it."

She glanced over to see her father grinning. Karen noticed it too and winked at Sarah.

"So, how is the research coming?"

Sarah waved her hand dismissively. "Oh fine." She paused. "Actually I got my… er, hands on a very old manuscript today. I'm still shocked they lent it to us, but they did. I think it will really help me out of my slump."

"Slump?" Robert's brows waggled. "You know it's never too late to apply to law school."

"No, dad, Sarah would rather ask, 'one sugar or two'?"

"Hey now, it's only funny when _I_ say it!"

Karen frowned. "Toby, don't be rude."

"But she says it!"

"And when I say it, it's funny."

"Fine!" Toby sighed dramatically. "Anyway why pay Sarah to argue, when she argues for free?"

"Pot–kettle."

"Shouldn't you have a date tonight?"

Sarah swiped his last egg roll and then licked it.

Robert laughed. "You see, I could open my own firm one day with you both at my side."

"Jokes on you. I already licked it first." Toby reached for the fortune cookies and began sliding them across the table. "We have to open them at the same time. And say 'in bed' at the end."

"Toby!" Karen squealed. "Where did you learn that?"

"I'm ten, not two. But if I blame Sarah, does she have to do the dishes?"

"I'll do them anyway, because I'm a good daughter."

"You're the only daughter. But Deal." Toby grinned and broke his cookie apart. "You will win all your arguments." 'In bed' he mouthed defiantly.

"Let me see that." Sarah reached across the table, but Toby popped it in his mouth.

"Joy is found in your home," Karen interrupted.

"In bed," Robert added suggestively.

"Gross," intoned his children.

Sarah snapped hers in two. "If you speak of the devil, you will hear the flap of his wings." She frowned. "Weird. Isn't that an Amish proverb?"

Karen nodded. "Yes, but I've heard it differently." She refilled Sarah's glass. "How did it go? Something like, 'you need not call the devil, he'll come without calling…'"

Sarah coughed.

"What?" Karen asked at the incredulous looks on her family's faces. "Did you all forget I grew up around Pennsylvania Dutch country?"

"In bed." Toby grinned.

"Huh?"

"You need not call the devil, he'll come without calling… in bed."

Sarah blinked.

"Alright, that's enough. Unless _you _want to go to bed right now," warned Karen. She began wiping the cereal off Max's face… off his tray… off the chair… off Robert…

Sarah stood and began to collect the plates. Toby helped without being asked for a change and followed her into the kitchen.

"God, I miss this," she sighed.

"Us?"

"No, the dishwasher." Sarah laughed at Toby's frown. "Okay, you're fine too."

They loaded it together and had the leftovers put away in minutes. Karen told Sarah she should take them home with her, much to Toby's dismay.

When they were finished, they joined their parents in the family room. Robert was watching Jeopardy while Max finished his bottle. Karen looked content but exhausted. No doubt, she'd thought sleepless nights were behind her by now. But she looked happy as she sipped on her wine.

Toby surreptitiously helped himself to another coke and motioned Sarah upstairs. Kissing Max on the forehead first, she followed him.

Toby collapsed on his bed. Sarah plopped herself down in his desk chair – formerly hers - and looked around at her old room. The wallpaper was long gone. And her bed had been dismantled to remove the canopy. Most of her childhood mementos had followed her to her apartment and what hadn't was in the attic. Only the bones remained. And Lancelot. Lancelot was tucked into the bed. She smiled at that but wisely said nothing.

"So what's up?"

"Nothing. Just bored. Mom said no to a horror movie tonight. SO lame."

"Maybe she didn't want to have to change your sheets."

"Very funny, grandma."

"Hey – I'm in my prime!"

"Yah, yah. You're a brilliant academic." Toby finger quoted. "And Max is a wittle, bitty baby. Meanwhile my cuteness factor is expired. Stocks have plummeted."

"Are you sure you're only 10?" Sarah gaped. "I thought middle child syndrome was a myth. Anyway, you'll always be an adorable _and annoying_ baby brother to me."

"Very funny. But Max is the baby with all the power."

"Where do you come up with this stuff? Jealous?"

"Maybe."

"They say the first step is admitting you have a problem."

"Hey, I get that he's cute but he didn't keep _you_ up all night."

"Touché."

Toby scanned the room. "Want to play Risk?"

"Meh, I should really get home and do some more work…" Sarah trailed off at the eager look on his face. "Or I could stay and hone my procrastination skills more. You're on."

Toby dug through his closet and pulled out the game. They passed Karen on the stairs as she was putting Max to bed. Sarah stole him for a moment to pepper his face with kisses and squish his chubby thighs.

When she got downstairs, Toby was already setting up the game. "Want to play for the last fortune cookie?"

"There were only four. That must be dad's."

Robert happened to walk into the room on his way to the kitchen.

Toby snatched up the cookie. "Hey dad, you forgot your cookie. Sarah was totally going to eat it."

Robert accepted the cookie and eyed the game. "Try and avoid flipping the board this time around, hmm?"

"No promises."

Robert broke the cookie and slid out the slip of paper, adjusting the glasses on his nose. "Your children will avoid upending any furniture in their quest for world domination."

"Well that's a bust," Toby laughed.

"It's better than what I actually got," his dad scoffed. "You will lose something precious." He shook his head and dropped the paper back on the table. It landed on the board amongst the armies.

Sarah stared at the paper, frowning, until Toby knocked it out of the way.

He began placing his pieces. When he was through, he dramatically steepled his fingers and narrowed his eyes. "And so the game begins."

It took three hours before they called it a draw. Out of respect for Max, they kept the shouting to a minimum, though Toby crowed victory.

"You did _not _win. We both won. Or we both lost. You took way too many risks and wasted too many pieces. Plus, I'm sure you cheated," Sarah added with a poke.

"Did not! We can't both win. And you have to take risks in RISK. Gah!"

Sarah's laugh morphed into a yawn. "I have to get home, kiddo."

"You could just sleep here," Toby suggested hopefully.

Sarah ruffled his hair. Toby allowed it. "I wish I could but Loki will destroy my place if I don't come home."

"You know he's just a cat, right?"

"Have you ever lived with a cat? I chose his name for a reason."

Toby sighed.

"Look, I'll be over again soon and we can have a vicious rematch to the death." She drew him into a hug, realizing yet again how tall he was getting. Without needing to bend her head, she whispered in his ear, "I'll even _forget_ to take the leftovers."

"Now there's the sister I love."

Sarah tiptoed to her parents' bedroom and wished them good night. Karen was already asleep. Robert gave her a peck.

At the front door she told Toby to get to bed, pretending he wasn't going to watch that horror movie, and made him promise to lock the door as soon as she left. She waited until she heard the click. Her drive home was quiet and uneventful.

Loki greeted her on arrival.

"Oh, deigned to make an appearance because I fed you? How kind." He wove between her legs and then arched into her touch, sleek black fur and limpid eyes blinking.

Sarah kicked off her clothes and stepped into a blissfully steaming shower. Hands on the tile walls, she let the hot water beat against her back, trailing scorching rivulets down her body. She watched it swirl down the drain.

When she got out, she brushed her long hair. Thought again about cutting it. _But then what would Max tangle his fingers in?_ She smiled and scooped her clothes to shove into the hamper. Two slips of paper fell from her jeans. Sarah crouched down slowly and picked them up, already knowing what they were.

_Hers: "If you speak of the devil, you will hear the flap of his wings." _

_Her father's: "You'll lose something precious."_

She fingered them both for a moment, pretending that she had accidentally put them in her pocket until she almost believed it. A glimpse in the clouded mirror reminded her that she was standing in the bathroom naked. _Exposed. Vulnerable_. She dropped them in the toilet and flushed, and quickly pulled on an oversized t-shirt.

She crawled into bed and cocooned herself within the duvet. She left all the lights on that night.

In the still, sudden silence of her apartment, her mind made her process what she'd felt in the elevator when she'd jumped. Before the light had sparked again.

Fingers. Fingers on her back…

_Impossible. _

Sarah felt the bed dip, her body freezing, but she relaxed again when she realized it was Loki settling himself at her feet. She forced herself to think of toxic red chicken balls. Karen bouncing Max. Toby plotting world domination. Her dad smiling at his children…

_You will lose something precious…_

…_you need not call the devil, he'll come calling… _

"There aren't any monsters under the bed," she whispered.

So naturally, that's when the scratching started.

* * *

><p><strong>Please R &amp; R<strong>

**AN: **

Thanks for all the love, guys! The reviews have been hilarious. I've seriously enjoyed reading them, and have shared a few with my husband - who still doesn't quite get fan fiction. His response is, "awesome, now why don't you write something that you can publish?" I will. Soon as I win the rights to _Labyrinth _in an illegal midnight poker game. To his credit, he dressed up as the Goblin King for ComicCon (he's lovely and obliging that way) and discovered just how many (mostly) women still friggin' adore the GK. I believe he said, "If you're going to leave me, leave me right now."

Related true story: Came home from ComicCon on the last day, all of us, kids included, still in our Labyrinth finery, and ordered Chinese takeout for dinner. We open our fortune cookies and mine says, "Things are not always what they seem." I'm not going to lie, I squealed. I kept that fortune.

Yes, I messed with you about the elevator. Old readers should know that's how I roll. More action in the next chapter. I had to establish the family dynamic.

The game of Risk always ends in a flipped board or a knocked over chair in my world. I assume this to be true for all people.

True story (again): I have a ten year old half-brother who lives across the country. He speaks like this. He made the comment about his cuteness factor expiring when my children were born.

**Notes:**

"Even if you don't believe in the devil, he believes in you" is a paraphrase of dialogue from the movie _Constantine_:

"Angela: I don't believe in the devil.

John Constantine: You should. He believes in you."

Highly underrated movie in my opinion – awesome for Keanu Reeves' campy acting, Tilda Swinton as a psychopathic archangel and Gavin Rossdale as one of the most delicious demons ever.

"If you speak of the devil, you will hear the flap of his wings" and "You need not call the devil, he'll come calling" are both (cool) Amish proverbs. I am sorry (not sorry?) for co-opting them.


	3. Memories That Bite

**Part III**

I'm friends with the monster  
>That's under my bed<br>Get along with the voices inside of my head  
>You're trying to save me<br>Stop holding your breath

_**The Monster**_**, Eminem, featuring Rihanna**

* * *

><p>Forcing yourself to peer over the side of the bed, in the middle of the night, all alone in the dark of your empty (or not so empty) apartment is akin to jumping out of a burning plane without knowing if you have a working parachute or a dud on your back.<p>

Those are the thoughts that would have been going through Sarah's mind if her brain had kept functioning. It didn't. She really regretted not getting a dog or a burly live-in boyfriend, because Loki was apparently inclined to act for neither.

All she knew for sure was that at some point her heart had lodged in her throat and all higher functions in her head had ceased.

"There are no monsters under the bed," she whispered again.

The sound grew louder.

…_I don't need you to believe in me…_

"Oh god…"

For the first time in too many years to count, she wanted to call for her mother. The same mother that had essentially abandoned her. Paralyzing fear skews the mind, even brilliant ones. And in the end, all babes remember where they first felt safe.

By sheer force of will, she pulled the covers from around her head. Fight or flight called for some kind of action either way. The room felt colder than she remembered leaving it. The skin on her face tightened and her breath, inexplicably, misted in the dim light.

Gently she rolled onto her stomach and inched towards the edge of the bed. Her knuckles bled white against the sheets. Propping her weight on her elbows, she eased her head towards the side, her damp hair falling into a curtain around her face, and held her breath.

The scratching grew louder, more persistent and closer…

_Why couldn't she be like most students and just have a mattress on the floor? _

_Just do it, dammit. Like a band aid._

She opened her eyes slowly, one at a time, inhaled and craned her head over the edge.

The scratching stopped.

Something shuffled forward and Sarah's remaining sanity fractured.

Loki poked his head from beneath the bed. Blinked his eyes at her, stretched and batted gently at Sarah's hair.

"Oh Jesus… you _little_ shit," Sarah exhaled. She collapsed onto her back, one hand falling to her chest in an attempt to quiet her erratic heart. Laughter bubbled out of her uncontrollably.

"Of all the days…" and that's when Sarah realized there was still a weight at her feet.

Her eyes popped back open just as all the lights went out.

* * *

><p>Toby turned off the TV just as the movie ended. He didn't have much experience with horror movies, but he knew enough to know that it had been a thoroughly effective one. Not that <em>he<em> was scared. He looked around at the empty living room and mentally counted how many lights he'd have to turn off on his way upstairs. The front door was locked but he should probably check it again. Just to be safe. That was the smart thing to do. The adult thing. That second coke was a probably not a good idea. The third was definitely a mistake. The caffeine/ sugar combo was making him jittery.

A definite positive of Max's arrival was his parents' constant need for sleep. They tended to collapse when the baby went down. And when they did go down it was the deep slumber of the perennially sleep deprived. It hadn't taken him long to realize he could capitalize on that fact. He considered watching whatever he wanted to on TV to be his reward for putting up with an unasked for and sometimes unwanted baby.

_His consolation for Sarah leaving._

If _he'd_ been his father he wouldn't have let her leave… Toby suddenly very much wanted to call her.

He forced his feet to move and began to switch off the lights, trying hard not to think about the encroaching darkness; how it felt like he was being swallowed by it. The front door was still firmly locked. _Not that that had helped the family in the movie_, his mind reminded him spitefully. He stopped by the kitchen and flipped the timer on the coffee maker for his parents. He knew Max would have them up early. As he neared the landing, the furnace kicked on, making him jump. He told himself that he was just tired, and that was why he ran up the stairs; not because there was anything behind him. Ten year olds shouldn't be afraid of the bogey man anymore. He passed his parents' room. He could hear his father snoring. His mother too, not that he'd ever be brave (or foolish) enough to tell her. When he got to his room, he found his window open. There had been an open window in the movie too. Toby had scoffed at that part – at their foolishness. Bad things only happened if you let bad things in. He shut the window firmly. And then drew the blinds and curtains for extra measure. He pretended it was for privacy.

He got undressed quickly and changed into superhero pajamas - ones he would deny owning if anyone asked. His room was cold, not surprisingly, given his window was open, so he scooted into bed quickly. He debated leaving his night table light on. He thought long and hard about it – weighing the pros and cons. When he finally decided to pull the cord, he spied a wadded up piece of paper on the table. It was his fortune from earlier. The one he'd shoved in his mouth and then spit out later. He'd forgotten about it.

The paper was gummed together from his saliva, but as a ten year old boy, he'd touched much worse. He pulled it apart carefully, having not actually read it at the table in his haste to annoy his sister.

'_Sometimes all you have to do is wish.'_

Toby snorted. If that were true, he'd still be in Max's room and Sarah would be home right now. _Where she belongs._ Fortunes were always lame. Even with 'in bed' at the end. He tossed it back on the table. The cookies kind of sucked too. There should be Chinese Twinkies instead.

He turned the knob on his lamp and drew the blankets over his head. It was just because he was cold, he reasoned. He certainly knew that hiding under blankets was no protection. It hadn't worked out for that one girl in the movie anyway.

Not that movies were real.

_They aren't_, he decided emphatically, just as the music started.

Toby froze. At first he thought it was some toy from Max's room. Max had all manner of annoying toys. The music was of a tinny type. Definitely a toy, he reasoned, and waited for it to turn off. When it didn't he tried following its direction. He grabbed for Lancelot when he realized it was coming from his closet. He wanted to call for his mom, but found he lacked the capacity to speak. She'd be mad that he woke her up. He'd probably wake Max too. Then he'd have to explain about the cokes and the movie. Still – he wanted to yell for her. Or he could phone Sarah. Sarah always knew how to make things better. But the nearest phone was in his parents' room. Or worse – downstairs. He waited, hoping the music would wake his parents. Or Max. Max would get the whole house up.

If he strained his ears he could still hear the snoring. _Useless baby._ He pulled the covers off and swung his feet over the edge, keeping his eyes trained on the closet. He blindly reached over and turned on his lamp. When he reached the doors, he was embarrassed to find that his hands were shaking. And for a moment they mutinously refused to listen to his brain. He didn't notice that he was still holding the bear.

When he finally pulled the doors open, the muffled music grew louder and he could see slight movement on the shelf next to his cap collection. Reaching between the hats, his fingers closed around something metal. When he pulled down a music box he stared at it in confusion. A doll turning inside a mirrored carousel. He vaguely recognized it as Sarah's. She'd kept it in a trunk in her room - his room now. He'd assumed it had been hers from childhood, though he'd never seen it out anywhere. Always in the trunk he wasn't supposed to touch.

It was strangely warm in his hand, the figurine turning and turning to the slow music. Music that was disturbing for no discernible reason. Examining the doll, with its long dark hair, he had the sudden ridiculous notion that it was Sarah in the childish over-sized dress. He let it play for another moment before he flipped it over. No batteries. It was a wind up box – he forced the crank until it stopped. Probably defective. Old things usually were.

He had no easy answer for how it got in his closet though, and he possessed the mind of an imaginative 10 year old. Any ideas he did have were better left as ideas. Sarah had taken almost all of her things with her when she'd moved. Anything she'd left was in the attic…

An instant, awful shiver shot down his spine.

His need to pee was forgotten. Or maybe he'd peed himself already. He placed the music box on his desk and reached over to turn on the light to his bedroom. Only then did he open his bedroom door. Only then did he let his eyes wander out into the darkened hall and up to the ceiling.

Up to the ceiling where the attic crawl space hatch was open. All the lights went out.

* * *

><p>Sarah bit her lip to hold back a sob. The metallic tang of blood slid across her tongue. She curled her feet up towards her body as carefully as possible. Pulling them away from whatever was on the end of her bed.<p>

_Move, Sarah. Do something! Anything!_

She suddenly very much wished she'd taken Toby's offer and spent the night at home. Her body was hyper aware that her t-shirt had ridden up and was bunched around her waist. And that she was wearing nothing underneath. Her damp hair was clammy against her face and neck, prickling her over-sensitive skin uncomfortably. The darkness was absolute.

She knew her phone was on her desk. Just out of reach. When nothing happened she'd almost convinced herself it was all in her head.

And then the weight moved. She thrashed in her efforts to extricate herself from the tangle of covers, and then froze again when she felt something move against her legs. Through the down, it felt like the splayed digits of a hand – gripping lightly. She knew then that she needed to react, but shock had momentarily paralyzed her. The touch, muted by the blanket, slid towards her knee and then up her thigh 'til it settled on the jut of her hip. _Leisurely,_ she thought wildly. It continued its path upwards, across her ribs, just skirting her breasts until it skimmed her collar bone – soft and subtle and ghosted over her pulse point. She swallowed reflexively, still frozen, when her hair was brushed away. Her eyes strained wildly in the dark, hands forming white knuckled fists at her side.

The shrill ring of a phone cut through the silence, and with that she thrust up violently - both arms swinging defensively and the scream finally tearing free from her throat.

The lights flickered back on and Sarah scanned the room wildly. Empty. She threw herself from her bed so quickly that she ended up on the floor. She scrambled to her feet, legs boneless, collapsed again. She backed into the desk painfully.

Sarah grabbed blindly for the receiver. "Hello?" she shouted.

"Sarah? It's Toby."

"Toby?" she asked in confusion, her eyes still darting about the room. "What's wrong? Is everything okay?" In the background she could hear Max wailing and she belatedly registered the shaky quality of her brother's voice.

"Um, no. I mean yes, everyone is fine. We're fine," he repeated. "How are you?"

Sarah's brows furrowed. "Toby?"

"Did you lose power? We lost power here. It's back now though, I mean."

She relaxed marginally, realized her own voice was little more than a warble. "I did. So you did too, huh? Did it scare you? It scared me."

Max had quieted and she could hear Karen saying something to Toby.

"I… er, yes," he admitted. "I, um, watched that movie I shouldn't have. And then I got… scared and the power went out…"

"So you called me to see if I was okay?" Sarah supplied smoothly. "That was sweet of you."

He laughed nervously. "Yah, pretty much. The lights going out made me scr… er, jump and I guess I woke up Max, who then woke up everyone else."

"I'm sure Karen and dad were thrilled with that."

Toby held the phone out so Sarah could hear for a moment. "Very thrilled it sounds."

"Look, sorry if I woke you up…"

"You didn't. I was awake."

"I didn't mean to scare you… You, er, sounded kinda not okay when you answered the phone."

"Don't worry about it." She looked around her room again.

"If you _are_ scared you could come sleep here."

Sarah was sorely tempted, especially by the hopeful lilt in Toby's voice. But it would be too much to explain and it was already really late. She rubbed her forehead.

"Thanks for the offer, kiddo, but I don't think I should be driving right now. You get some sleep, huh?"

"Yah. Okay. You too. Sorry for calling. Karen, I mean mom, says it was rude."

"No worries. Call me anytime. I mean that."

"I know."

Sarah heard dial tone and immediately wished she'd kept talking to him. She reluctantly replaced the phone in the base and then cradled her temples again.

She had to be going crazy. Pushing off the desk she checked the window to make sure it was shut and locked. She padded out into the hall and did the same with the bathroom, before turning off the light and shutting the door firmly. She checked the small linen closet and then made her way to the front door. She calmed a little more when she found it still firmly locked. Dead bolt included. She checked the tiny galley kitchen, eyeing her sink full of dirty dishes distastefully before turning off the light. The similarly small dining room was empty save for the remaining work she had piled on top of the table. She checked the living room, verifying again that the few windows were locked. She pulled the curtains closed tightly and left the lights on. When she made it back to her room, Loki was curled up on her pillow. He blinked at her blearily when she yanked open her closet and checked inside. Before she could chicken out, she ducked down and checked under the bed too, closing her eyes in relief when all she found was dust bunnies. When she stood back up, her attention was drawn to the end of the bed and she stared at it for a full minute. There seemed to be an impression of… something that had settled on the end. When she tentatively put her hand on it, her mind warred with itself whether or not the spot felt warm. Sarah snatched her hand back and then whipped the duvet off the bed and slid the pillow out from under her disgruntled cat. He padded to the foot of the bed and lay back down with his back to her. _He found a warm spot_, her mind supplied helpfully. Sarah tugged on a pair of shorts and then returned to the living room, leaving the light on in her room when she left. She switched on the TV and pressed play on the VCR. The familiar opening bars of _Willow_ started a few seconds later. _Might as well earn that late fee_. She curled up on the couch into a fetal position with her duvet and pillow and tried to focus on the screen. Her eyes kept drifting back to her bedroom.

Her mind could convince itself otherwise, using reason and logic and evidence, but her body couldn't deny the touch in the dark. Sarah shivered and a fitful sleep did not find her until well-past the credits rolling.

* * *

><p>Across town, Toby's eyes were still open too. They'd started to burn in fact, but he didn't want to shut them. Max had finally settled again and if he listened hard enough, he could hear that his parents had too. He promised himself he'd never watch another horror movie again – even knowing it was a promise he'd likely break.<p>

Listening to the silence of the house, he waited a few more minutes before he stole from his bed with his comforter and pillow and Lancelot. He made his way to the hall, refusing to look at the ceiling and then crept into Max's room as quietly as he could. He knew he'd be murdered if he woke the precious baby up again. He made himself a little pallet on the floor next to the crib, curling the covers over himself and Lancelot like armour, and focused on Max's soft, even exhalations.

"Don't worry, Max," Toby whispered. "I'm here."

* * *

><p>Sarah pushed through the glass doors and yawned. She knew she looked awful. She felt awful. Sleeping on the small couch, not much bigger than a loveseat, had left her cramping in all the wrong places. She'd had awful dreams, ones she couldn't remember when she woke but had left an imprint – like a bruise that had faded but still ached. She nodded at a fellow Lit grad. The other girl looked awful too, but for all the right reasons Sarah supposed.<p>

When she had woken that morning, her TV was still on – a blue screen with a low hum. In the final quicksilver moments between sleep and waking, all the events of the night and day settled back into place and the rationalizations began.

As a result, Sarah found herself at the library, with strong coffee in hand. It was public. Innocuous. Anonymous.

_And tainted._

Sarah needed to work. She also needed to speak to Barbara.

She took the stairs to the fourth floor, her cramped legs protesting. Barbara looked up when Sarah approached.

"You!"

Sarah stilled, surprised in a half-started yawn.

"I thought we agreed that you'd follow the rules? I put my job on the line, Sarah." She hissed. "You're lucky I was going to reset all the tapes today anyway."

Sarah stared blankly until it registered. _Tapes_. The Rare Book Collection would naturally have surveillance cameras as part of its security. Her fingers itched guiltily.

"Oh God, Barbara, I am SO sorry. I couldn't resist! It was only for a few seconds and only one page…" She trailed off at the look of confusion on the librarian's face.

"What are you talking about?"

"…What are _you_ talking about?

Barbara shook her head in annoyance. "Follow me."

Sarah followed the older woman into a small windowless room. Inside were various types of AV equipment. "I'm talking about this." Barbara reached over and pushed a button on a small TV.

The grainy feed dimly showed Sarah seated; her attention to the door. There was no sound. Even in the distorted tape she could see the white of the discarded gloves beside her. She side-eyed Barbara but the librarian said nothing.

The video Sarah jumped and then settled.

"There, see?"

The outline of a figure moved into the frame and stopped behind Sarah, so close it was almost touching her.

Sarah's hand flew to her mouth and trembled.

The quality and lack of lighting meant she could discern nothing other than shape. Tall and slim.

_Cloaked by shadow_.

She recalled the hairs prickling on her neck. They prickled again in remembrance.

She watched the screen with horror as the figure reached towards her and then paused, turning its head to the camera. The video went black.

"I don't know what happened to it from there, or what you did to the lights, but it doesn't matter as I was going to wipe…" Barbara trailed off at Sarah's white pallor.

"Sarah?"

"You… You saw it, right?" Sarah whispered, aware of how stupid her question must seem.

Barbara pursed her lips. "I saw that you weren't alone-"

Sarah mewed like a wounded animal.

"Wait… did…" Barbara studied Sarah's face. "Oh, my god, you didn't know…"

Sarah shook her head wordlessly and then found she couldn't stop shaking.

Barbara stilled her gently. "That doesn't make any sense. You had the only key. There was no one in the room when I brought you in there."

"Just books," Sarah whispered.

"Well, let's rewind further. There's an explanation somewhere." But when she pressed play again the tape showed only snow. She tried rewind and forward a few times. "Dammit, I must have hit something by accident!"

"You didn't do anything." Sarah said dully. She straightened, shouldering her bag. "I have to go, okay?"

"What? Wait," Barbara called, but Sarah was already striding out the door.

Barbara followed her and caught up to her by the stairs. "Sarah. We have to investigate," she whispered. "We have to report this. I still don't understand how this even happened."

"Report what? That you left me alone in a room I shouldn't have been in in the first place? That you had security tape and now it's blank? Forget it."

"Sarah," Barbara paused, "Are you certain you didn't let anyone in? You can tell me. Honestly I won't be mad. No harm done. I was young once too, you know…" She trailed off at the look on Sarah's face. "Okay. But we have to do something! If it wasn't you then there's a serious security issue. What if this happens to someone else?"

"It won't." Sarah began walking down the stairs. "I'll see you on Monday, okay?"

"Maybe it was just a trick of the light." Barbara chewed her lip. "It's an outdated system and there are hardly any lights in that room."

"Probably," Sarah called over her shoulder. Barbara nodded absently. Neither woman believed it.

* * *

><p>When Toby opened the door, he was thrilled to see Sarah.<p>

She ruffled his hair when she passed him.

"You look like crap."

"Thanks," Sarah mumbled. She eyed herself in the hall mirror and agreed. "Just came to eat all your leftover chicken balls."

Toby grinned. "Too late."

"Brat."

Robert poked his head from the landing. "Oh, Sarah. Hi, sweetie." He placed a finger over his lips. "Karen's down with Max." He eyed Toby. "Some of us didn't get much sleep last night."

Toby studied the floor.

"I'll keep it down. Just, uh, here to do some laundry."

Her dad nodded and headed back up stairs.

"You know they have places called Laundromats, right?"

"You know they have places called orphanages, right?" She poked Toby in the arm playfully. "It's where they send mouthy kids."

"Well you should have gotten rid of me when you had the chance. You don't live here anymore. So you have no power."

Sarah's grin faltered and she adjusted the basket on her hip to hide her expression.

Toby must have noticed because his face sobered too. "There's still some rice and stuff."

"I'm starving. I'll just put these in the wash." She headed to the basement stairs but then poked her head back up. "Got any superhero PJs you want me to throw in?" She waggled her brows.

Toby reddened. "Don't be surprised if a dirty diaper ends up in your wash!"

"Yours or Max's?" Sarah parried and then disappeared downstairs.

Toby scowled and then laughed. She was good. He felt a hundred times better with Sarah under the roof. Sarah was… just right. He loved his parents. He idolized his dad. He still needed his mom like all little boys do. But Sarah was somehow _his_. She made him feel safe.

He heard the washer kick on and moved into the kitchen to get the leftover Chinese. He was fixing her plate when she walked into the kitchen.

Sarah accepted it with a smile and popped it into the microwave. Toby snagged a bag of chips from the cupboard.

"So no work today?" he asked; mouth full.

"Not today. I'll get back at it tomorrow. Grab me the soya sauce, would you?"

Toby slid off the stool and then passed it over.

"What about you?"

Toby snorted. "Well I won't be watching the TV I'm not allowed to touch."

"That bad, huh?"

Toby shrugged and then fell silent. The chips forgotten beside him.

Sarah eyed the bag. "What's up? Just how bad was that movie?"

Toby fidgeted. "It wasn't just the movie. Not really. I don't know, I can't explain it."

Sarah swallowed another bite. "Try."

"Something… doesn't feel right. And then last night, when that stupid music started…"

Sarah stilled, her fork hovering halfway to her mouth. "Music?"

"Yah, _your _music. So it should really be _you _who can't watch Power Rangers_._"

"Toby, let's pretend for a moment that I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Your stupid music box started playing! It was in _my_ closet for some reason." He glared at her accusingly. "If it was a joke, it was a dumb joke."

Sarah put her fork down. "What box, Toby?"

"The cheesy one with the girl. It's still in my room."

She gripped the edge of the table. "But I got rid of that thing when it wouldn't play anymore."

"Well it had no problem playing last night. Wait – what do you mean you got rid of it?"

"I mean I'm pretty sure it was thrown out years ago."

Toby's eyes widened. "Well it didn't. And it ended up in my closet."

Sarah pushed her half-finished plate away. "Of course it did."

"Huh?"

"Nothing. Forget about it." She leaned back and then stood up. "I'm going to get it okay?"

Toby nodded and preceded her up the stairs.

Sarah noticed that his head darted up to look at the attic and then shot back down again.

She shot him a questioning glance but he shook his head.

"Here," he said, thrusting it into her hands.

Sarah held it lightly, examining it for a moment. She had loved it for a time. And then, like so many things, it had stopped working. She pretended not to remember when the music had stopped exactly, but she knew it to the day. She turned it over and cranked the tiny shaft.

Music started.

Then Max started crying.

Toby rolled his eyes. "_Now _he cries!"

She heard a groan. A few moments later Karen appeared in the doorway, Max on her shoulder.

"Oh, Sarah. You look about as good as me," she said, not unkindly. "Rough night?"

"Probably better than yours," Sarah lied.

Karen smiled again. "Oh, Toby. That reminds me, you need to start thinking about what you want to bring with you. You need to start packing soon."

Toby rolled his eyes. "I dunno. Do we have to go?"

Karen pursed her lips. "Yes. We. Do. She's your grandmother and she wants to see you."

"She wants to see Max."

"Toby…"

Sarah recognized the warning note. "Hey, sounds fun to me," she supplied.

Toby regarded her mutinously. "Yes, if 8 hours in a car with a baby is fun."

"But family trip. Hotel with a pool…"

Toby folded his arms. "_You_ aren't going."

Karen eyed Sarah sympathetically. They had navigated these waters before. Karen's mother was technically a grandmother to Sarah too but it wasn't the same. Living so far away and Sarah so grown when they became a family, she had never built up a strong relationship with Sarah, though she had always been welcoming. That had once been a weapon in Sarah's arsenal during her early teenage years. Now Sarah was better able to understand the intricacies of a blended family. Toby wasn't there yet.

"Sarah is an adult and is very busy."

Sarah nodded. "Very true. Norse gods are demanding."

Toby rolled his eyes. "She's so busy she's here eating _my_ leftovers. You could come if you really wanted to," he added seriously.

"It sounds great and I promise. Next time."

Sarah realized she might have broken that promise once before. Toby's expression told her she had.

"There's not really room with Max's car seat," Robert added helpfully. He'd come to stand beside Karen. "Next time we'll rent a van."

"Or take two cars and you can ride with me," Sarah nodded. "Stick the olds with chubs here." She tucked the music box under her arm and scooped Max from a grateful Karen. He immediately stuffed his fists full of her hair.

Karen mouthed a 'thank you' and shuffled back into her room. Robert ruffled Toby's hair and followed her.

Sarah wandered back downstairs, making faces at Max on the way down.

Toby remained in his doorway, staring after them with an inscrutable expression.

* * *

><p>Later that night, Toby sat on his bed with his hands clasped loosely and listened to the muffled sounds of his parents putting Max to sleep. Sarah had left a few hours earlier with her clean laundry and the music box.<p>

Right before she'd left he'd asked her if she'd been like that with him when he was a baby. Like she was with Max. She'd paused mid bounce, Max giggling.

Not at first, she'd admitted. But later, yes. Toby had pressed her for more, but she'd said she had to go. Promised to come again soon. And that she wouldn't eat any leftovers next time.

She'd kissed Max a dozen times at the door. She'd hugged Toby once.

Toby frowned and unclasped his hands, looking around his room. _Her room_. His eyes lit upon the tiny slip of paper still on his nightstand.

_All you have to do is wish…_

* * *

><p>Sarah drove home, with the radio playing loudly. Anything to drown out her thoughts. Nevertheless, she was aware of the music box on the seat beside her. Part of her wanted to just get rid of it, but mostly she wanted it far away from Toby.<p>

Some memories have teeth, she thought. And oh how they'd slid into her.

…_everything is dancing…_

Going home had been an attempt to escape; a last chance to deny and to forget. But ten years of nothing could dissolve in an instant.

Her sanity felt shredded and her reason raw. She'd heard grad students sometimes went crazy. She felt crazy. She was crazy to be bringing that thing home with her. She stopped at the red light.

…_he'll come calling…_

…_you will lose something precious…_

* * *

><p>Elsewhere lips parted in a smile, teeth glinting. "Soon."<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Please R&amp;R<strong>

**AN: **Not technically a cliff-hanger, right? Happy Wednesday! Pour yourself a celebratory glass of wine. I did.

Many thanks for all of the lovely reviews and all of the faves so soon. Fantastic to hear from some of you again, and a warm welcome to new readers.

True story: Attic ceiling hatches are terrifying. And the bogey man does live in the furnace.

…Stay tuned. I can neither confirm nor deny that someone makes a grand entrance next chapter…

**Notes:**

I think you all know where the line "everything is dancing" comes from.


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